


Spell Bound

by Whodoesntlovearchur



Category: Hex Hall Series - Rachel Hawkins, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Comedy, Dark Fantasy, Druids, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Mages, Paranormal, Sorcerers, Vampires, Warlocks, Werewolves, Witch Hunters, Witches, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-04 09:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12767544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whodoesntlovearchur/pseuds/Whodoesntlovearchur
Summary: The story is centered on Clarke Griffin, a sixteen-year-old witch who is sent to Hecate Hall (nicknamed "Hex Hall"), a boarding school for magical beings.An awkward, sarcastic girl, she becomes best friends with her vampire roommate, Octavia Talbot, who is an outcast like her. Clarke also gets swept up in a love triangle involving Bellamy Blake, the school's resident bad boy, and Elodie Parris, a sexy dark witch.*******************"You know," someone said off to my left, "I usually find a blocking spell to be a lot more effective than yelling 'Bad dog,' but maybe that's just me."I turned towards the voice. Leaning against a tree, his collar unbuttoned and tie loose, was a smirking guy. His Hecate blazer was hanging limply in the crook of his elbow."You are a witch, aren't you?" he continued. He pushed himself off the tree and ran a hand through his black curly hair. As he walked closer, I noticed that he was well-build , and that he was several inches taller than me. "Maybe in the future," he said, "you could endeavor not to suck so badly at it."And with that, he walked off."So I'm a bad witch, huh?" I said under my breath as I focused on the boy's retreating back.





	1. Chapter 1

> The story is based on a novel by Rachel Hawkins , but made with characters from books and from the CW's The 100. Some scenes will be kept the same as in the books, others will be changed completely. Some details will be the same,some not (ex.the castle)


	2. Chapter 2

Lexa Nightware was crying in the bathroom. Again.  
I knew it was her because in the three months I'd been going to Green Mountain High, I'd already seen Lexa crying in the bathroom twice. She had a really distinctive sob, high and breathy like a little kid's, even though Lexa was eighteen, two years older than me.

I'd left her alone before, figuring that it was every girl's right to cry in a public bathroom from time to time.But tonight was prom night, and there was something really sad about sobbing in formal wear. Besides, I'd developed a soft spot for Lexa. There was a girl just like her at every school I'd ever been to (nineteen and counting). And while I may have been the new girl, people weren't mean to me; they mostly just ignored me. Lexa, on the other hand, was the class punching bag. For her, school had been nothing but a constant parade of stolen lunch money and nasty remarks.

I peeked under the stall door and saw a pair of feet in strappy dark red sandals. "Lexa?" I called, rapping softly on the door. "What's wrong?"

She opened the door and looked up at me with angry, bloodshot eyes.

"What's wrong? Well, let's see, Clarke, it's prom night of my senior year and do you see a date anywhere near me?"

"Um . . . no. But you are in the ladies' room, so I thought--"

"What?" she asked as she stood up and wiped her nose."That my date's out there waiting for me?" She snorted and maybe regretted being so snappy.

“ I lied to my parents and said I had a date. So they bought me this dress"--she slapped at the dark red taffeta like it was a bug she was trying to kill--"and I told them my date was meeting me here, so they dropped me off.

I just . . . I couldn't tell them I didn't get invited to my senior prom. It would have broken their hearts." She rolled her eyes. "How pathetic is that?"

"It's not that pathetic," I said. "Lots of girls come to prom alone."

She glared at me. "Do you have a date?"  
I did have a date. Sure, it was Ryan Hellerman, who might have been the only person at Green Mountain High less popular than I was, but it was still a date. And my mom had been so excited that someone had asked me.

I watched Lexa standing there in her red dress, wiping at her nose, and before I could stop myself, I said something totally stupid: "I can help you."

She looked up at me through puffy eyes. "How?"

I stared at her for a brief second and asked: "If you could have anyone as your prom date, who would it be?"

"Are you trying to torture me?" she asked.

"Just answer the question." I said shortly.

Staring at her red shoes, she mumbled, "Kevin Bridges?"

I wasn't surprised. Class president, football captain, all-around hottie . . . Kevin Bridges was the guy almost any girl would pick to be her prom date. Maybe even I.

"Okay, then. Kevin it is," I muttered, cracking my knuckles. Lifting my hands to the bathroom ceiling, I closed my eyes and pictured Lexa in Kevin's arms, her in her dark red dress, him in a tux. After just a few seconds of focusing on that image, I started to feel a slight tremor under my feet and a feeling like water rushing all the way up to my outspread hands. My hair started to float from my shoulders, and then I heard Lexa gasp.

When I opened my eyes, I went into the halls and looked outside the window.I saw exactly what I'd hoped. Overhead, a huge dark cloud was swirling, sparks of purplish light flashing inside of it. I kept concentrating, and as I did, the cloud swirled faster until it was a perfect circle with a hole in the center.

The Magic Doughnut, as I'd dubbed it the first time I'd created one on my twelfth birthday.The hole in the center of the cloud filled with bright green light.Focusing on that light and the image of Kevin and Lexa, I flexed my fingers and watched as a bolt of green lightning shot out of the cloud and raced across the sky. It disappeared behind some trees.

The cloud vanished, and Lexa walked up on shaky legs. "W-what was that?" She turned to me, wide-eyed. "Are you like a witch or something?"

I shrugged, still feeling pleasantly buzzed by the power I'd just unleashed. Magic drunk, Mom always calls it. I don’t know if it worked or not. I usually go for small spells like create a wind of dust so the leaves in my garden splatter in a colorful cloud but making a love spell was a first. Of course I play it cool."It was nothing," I said. "Now let's go inside."

Ryan was hanging out by the punch table when I came back.

"What was that about?" he asked, nodding toward Lexa. She looked dazed as she stood on tiptoes, scanning the dance floor.

"Oh, she just needed some air," I said, picking up a glass of punch.

"Cool," Ryan said, bouncing his head in time with the music. "Wanna dance?"

Before I could answer, Lexa ran up and grabbed my arm. "He's not even here," she said. "Didn't that . . . that thing you did make him my prom date?"

"Yes. I think. Well it should have. " she looked at me confused. " I’m sure he will soon be here. "

We didn't have to wait long.Ryan and I were only halfway through our first dance when a huge crash echoed through the gym.

There was a rapid succession of loud pops, almost like gunshots, that sent kids screaming and diving under the refreshment table. I watched the punch bowl plummet to the floor, splashing red liquid everywhere.

But it wasn't a gun that had made the popping sounds; it was balloons.

Hundreds of them. Whatever had happened had sent the huge balloon arch swooping to the ground. I watched as one white balloon escaped the carnage and rose into the rafters of the gym.

I looked over and saw several of the teachers running for the doors.

Which weren't there anymore.

That was because a silver Land Rover had crashed through them.

Kevin Bridges staggered out of the driver's seat. He'd cut both his forehead and his hand, and was bleeding on the shiny hardwood as he bellowed, "Lexa! LEXA!"

"Holy crap," Ryan murmured.

Kevin's date, Caroline Reed, scrambled out of the passenger side. She was sobbing. "He's crazy!" she cried. "He was fine, and then there was this light and . . . and . . ." She broke off into more hysterics, and I felt sick to my stomach. Did I screw up?

"LEXA!" Kevin continued to scream, wildly searching the gym. I looked around and saw Lexa hiding under one of the tables, her eyes huge.

Kevin found Lexa and yanked her out from under the table. Yes, I probably screwed up.

"Lexa!" He smiled broadly, his whole face lit up, which, what with the blood and all, was terrifying. I didn't blame Lexa for screaming her head off.

One of the chaperones, Coach Henry, sprinted over to help, grabbing Kevin's arm.

But Kevin just turned, one hand still clutching Lexa, and backhanded Coach Henry across the face. The coach, who was six foot two and easily over two hundred pounds, went flying backward.

And then all hell broke loose.

People were stampeding for the doors, more teachers were swarming Kevin, and Lexa's screams had taken on a desperate, keening edge. Only Ryan seemed unfazed.

"Awesome!" he enthused as two girls scrambled over the Land Rover and out of the gym.

Kevin was still holding one of Lexa's hands, and by now he was on one knee. I couldn't be sure, thanks to all the screaming, but I think he was singing to her.

Lexa wasn't screeching anymore, but she was fishing in her handbag for something.She whipped out a small red can and sprayed the contents in Kevin's face.His song broke off in a garbled cry of pain. He dropped her hand to claw at his eyes, and Lexa ran.

"It's okay, baby!" he shouted after her. "I don't need eyes to see you! I see you with the eyes of my heart, Lexa! My HEART!"

Great. Not only was my spell too strong, it was also lame.

A lone white balloon bobbed by my elbow, and Mrs. Davison, my algebra teacher, stumbled past, shouting into her cell phone, "I said Green Mountain High! Um . . . I don't know, an ambulance? A SWAT team? Just send somebody!"

Then I heard her.

"She did it! Clarke Griffin! "Lexa was pointing at me, her whole body shaking.Even over all the noise, Lexa’s words echoed in the cavernous gym.

"She's . . . she's a witch!"

I sighed. " **Not** **again**."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well?"

I stepped out of the car and into the slight warmth in Washington in August.

"Awesome," I murmured, sliding my sunglasses on top of my head.

Thanks to the humidity, my hair felt like it had doubled in size. I could feel it trying to devour my sunglasses like some sort of carnivorous jungle plant.

In front of me loomed Hecate Hall, which, according to the brochure clutched in my hand, was "the premier reformatory institution for Prodigium adolescents."

Prodigium. Just a fancy Latin word for monsters. And that's what everyone at Hecate was.

That's what I was.

I'd already read the brochure four times on the plane from Vermont to Washington, twice on the ferry ride to Graymalkin Island, just off the coast of Washington(where, I learned, Hecate had been built in 1854). Our rental car had rattled over the shell and gravel driveway that led from the shore to the dusky forest ,and up a cliff-looking mountain. So I should have had it memorized, but I kept holding on to it and compulsively reading it, like it was my wubby or something:

The purpose of Hecate Hall is to protect and instruct shapeshifters, witches, and fae children who have risked exposure of their abilities, and therefore imperiled Prodigium society as a whole.

"I still don't see how helping one girl find a date threatened other witches," I said upset at my mom as we reached into the trunk for my stuff. The thought had been bugging me since the first time I'd read the brochure, but I hadn't had a chance to bring it up. Mom had spent most of the flight pretending to be asleep, probably to avoid looking at me.

"It wasn't just that one girl, Clarke, and you know it. It was that boy with the broken arm in Delaware, and that teacher you tried to make forget about a test in Arizona. . . ."

"He got his memory back eventually," I said. "Well, most of it."

"Your father and I both warned you that there were consequences for using your powers. I don't like this any more than you do, but at least here you'll be with . . . with other kids like you."

"You mean other total screwups." I pulled my bag onto my shoulder.

Mom pushed her own sunglasses up and looked at me. She seemed tired and there were heavy lines around her mouth, lines I'd never seen before. My mom was almost forty, but she could usually pass for ten years younger.

"You're not a screwup, Clarke.You've just made some mistakes."

Had I ever. Being a witch had definitely not been as awesome as I'd hoped it would be. For one thing, I didn't get to fly around on a broomstick.(I asked my mom about that when I first came into my powers, and she said no, I had to keep riding the bus like everyone else.) I don't have spell books or a talking cat (I'm allergic), and I wouldn't even know where to get a hold of something like eye of newt.

But I can perform magic. I've been able to ever since I was twelve, which, according to the brochure, is the age all Prodigium come into their powers. Something to do with puberty, I guess.

"Besides, this is a good school," Mom said as we approached the building.

But it didn't look like a school. It looked like a cross between Hogwarts and something out of an old horror movie.For starters, it was obviously ancient. It was too many stories high to count, and too many towers to clearly acknowledge. If we came at night I would definitely have been shitting myself. I have to give it to them though, my 10 year old self would have loved it here. Me though, I’m missing my old home.

"Huh," Mom said and she walked towards the castle. "Would you look at that?" she awed looking at the castle.

The brochure said Hecate had made "extensive additions to the original structure" over the years. I think they meant the little house on the way up the cliff. I suppose teachers were not meant to live with us. I wouldn’t expect them to either. Although it is highly possible this place is done with magic. Wouldn’t be surprised.

There was a lonely huge oak tree in the front yard in contrast to the pine trees all around the forest. In fact, there seemed to be plants everywhere. Some sort of vine with purple flowers had taken over an entire wall. It was almost like the castle was being slowly absorbed by the forest just beyond it.

I tugged at the hem of my brand-new Hecate Hall uniform which consisted of a blue checked skirt and white blouse.

"It's pretty," Mom said in her best ‘Let's be perky and look on the bright side’ voice.

 

"Yeah, it's beautiful. For a prison."

" Hey, it’s better than most prisons I’ve seen. " my mom joked. " It's hardly a prison, Clarke." But that's what it felt like.

"This really is the best place for you," she said as we picked up my suitcases. "I guess," I mumbled.

It's for your own good seemed to be the mantra as far as me and Hecate were concerned. Two days after prom we'd gotten an e-mail from my dad that basically said I'd blown all my chances, and that the Council was sentencing me to Hecate until my eighteenth birthday. The council are a group of people who are in charge of us freaks and my dad is one of them.

"Hopefully," he had said in his e-mail, "this will teach you to use your powers with more discretion." E-mails were the way to contact him, besides the occasional phone call. He and my mom split up before I was born. When my mom found out he was a warlock she left him. She wouldn’t call him until my twelfth birthday when I gained my powers, though she was still pretty cold towards him.

In the month since my dad had told me that I was going to Hecate, I'd tried to come to terms with it. Seriously. I told myself that I'd finally be around people that were like me, people I didn't have to hide my true self from. And I might learn some pretty sweet spells. Those were all big pros.

According to the brochure, Graymalkin Island had been selected to house Hecate because of its remote location, the better to keep it a secret. The locals just thought it was a super-exclusive boarding school.

It seemed like most of the student body was milling around on the lawn, but only a handful of them looked new, like me. They were all unloading trunks, toting suitcases. Some of them had beat-up luggage like mine, but I saw a couple of Louis Vuitton bags, too. I couldn't really tell what most of them were, whether they were witches and warlocks or shapeshifters. Since we all look like regular people, there was no way to tell.

The faeries, on the other hand, were very easy to spot. They were all taller than average and very dignified looking, and every one of them had straight shiny hair, in all sorts of different colors, from pale gold to bright violet.

And they had wings.

According to my mom, faeries usually used glamours to blend in with humans. It was a pretty complex spell since it involved altering the mind of everyone they met, but it meant that humans could only see the faeries as normal people instead of bright, colorful, winged . . . creatures. I wondered if the faeries that got sentenced to Hecate were kind of relieved. It had to be hard, doing that big of a spell all the time.

"At least this place is safe," Mom said. "That's something, right? I won't have to be constantly worrying about you for once. "I knew Mom was anxious about my being so far from home, but she was also happy to have me in a place where I wasn't risking getting found out. You spend all your time reading books about the various ways people have killed witches over the years, it's bound to make you a little paranoid.

All around me were things I'd only read about in books. To my left, a blue-haired faerie with indigo wings was sobbing as she clung to her winged parents, whose feet hovered an inch or two above the ground. An unearthly howl echoed in the thick air. Mom and I whirled around to see this . . . thing growling at two rather frustrated-looking adults. They didn't look scared; just vaguely annoyed.

A werewolf.

No matter how many times you read about werewolves, seeing one right in front of you is a whole new experience. He looked just like a wolf, but a small one. It has short and light brown fur and yellow eyes. But he seemed rather small.

"Stop it, John" the man spat. The woman, whose hair, I noticed, was the same light brown as the werewolf's.

"Sweetie," she said in a soft voice with a hint of a English accent, "Listen to your father. This is just silly."

For a second the werewolf, eh, John, paused, his head cocked to the side, making him look less like a throat-ripping beast and more like a cocker spaniel.

The thought made me giggle.

And suddenly those yellow eyes were on me.

It gave another howl, and before I even had time to think, it charged.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ************************  
> Imagine the girls' common room a bit like gryffindor's common room,but bigger.  
> ************************

I heard the man and woman cry out a warning as I frantically tried to think of a blocking spell but my brain just turned off. Whenever I needed witty remarks my brain would give me multiple answers, but now it was blank. The only words I actually managed to yell at the werewolf as he ran at me were, "BAD DOG!"

I closed my eyes and then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of blue light on my left. Suddenly, the werewolf smacked into an invisible wall just inches in front of me. It fell to the ground wincing and I followed losing my footing. In a matter of seconds he turned into a normal boy with jeans and blue shirt. His parents got to him just as Mom ran to me, dragging my suitcase behind her.

"Oh my God!" she breathed. "Honey, are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, brushing grass off my skirt.

"You know," someone said off to my left, "I usually find a blocking spell to be a lot more effective than yelling 'Bad dog,' but maybe that's just me."

 

I turned towards the voice. Leaning against a tree, his collar unbuttoned and tie loose, was a smirking guy. His Hecate blazer was hanging limply in the crook of his elbow.

"You are a witch, aren't you?" he continued. He pushed himself off the tree and ran a hand through his black curly hair. As he walked closer, I noticed that he was well-build , and that he was several inches taller than me. "Maybe in the future," he said, "you could endeavor not to suck so badly at it."

And with that, he walked off.

 

I just nearly got killed by a cocker spaniel and this guys thinks he can be witty and inveigh me on my witchcraft. I was not having it.

I checked to see if Mom was watching, but she was asking John's parents something that sounded like, "Was he going to bite her?!"

"So I'm a bad witch, huh?" I said under my breath as I focused on the boy's retreating back.

I raised my hand towards his back and thought about replacing his voice with dog barking.

But nothing happened.

There was no sensation of water rushing up to my fingers, no quickening heartbeat, no hair standing on end.

I was just standing there like an idiot, pointing my fingers at him.

 

"That's enough, my dear." said a woman standing by my side. I hadn't noticed her before. “Using magic against fellow students is forbidden. “ She had her hand towards me, probably stopping my powers from working. She had a particular voice, soft and smoky, yet again musical.

"May I add, Bellamy," the woman continued, turning to the dark-haired boy, "that while this young lady is new to Hecate, you know better than to attack another student."

"So I should have let him eat her?" he snorted turning around.

"Magic is not the solution for everything," she replied.

"Bellamy?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. Hey, you might be able to take away my magical powers, but the power of sarcasm was still at my disposal. "Is that an alias for George Duroy? Maybe even add a title?

 Ooh!" I said, widening my eyes, "or maybe it’s more of a Don Juan reference? "

 

I'd hoped to hurt his feelings or, at the very least, make him angry, but he just kept smiling at me. "Actually, it's Bellamy Blake, and no title as of now.

Now what about you?" He squinted. "Let's see . . . blonde hair, blue eyes, whole girl-next-door vibe going on . . . Claire? Clarissa? Definitely something cutish beginning with -cl."

You know those times when your mouth moves but no sound actually comes out? Yeah, that's pretty much what happened. And then, of course, my mom took that opportunity to end her conversation with John's parents and call out, "Clarke! Wait up."

"I knew it." Bellamy laughed. "See you around Cl arke" he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the castle.

 

Bellamy 1/Clarke 0

 

I turned my attention back to the woman. She was around thirty, with dark black hair pulled into a loose pony tail, with small hairs falling around her face.I assumed she was the school's headmistress, as she wore a stylish suit - royal blue, the school’s color. Mrs. Bekka Pramheda. I didn't have to look at the brochure to remember that. A name like Bekka Pramheda tends to stick with you.

The woman was in fact the named leader of Hecate Hall. My mom shook her hand. "Abigail Griffin. And this is Clarke. " She smiled towards me and looked at my mom.

"I suppose you aren't very familiar with our world." Mrs. Pramheda continued as we walked toward the school.

"No, well I know a bit from what Clarke’s dad has told me.”

"I see." Mrs. Pramheda said. "And what do you do, Mrs. Griffin?"

"Ms." Mom said automatically, and just a little too loudly. She bit her lower lip and continued : "I'm a teacher. Religious studies. Mostly mythology and folklore."

I trailed behind them as we ascended the imposing front steps and entered Hecate Hall.

  


I thought the outside was magnificent, but so was the inside. As you enter there is a big staircase in the middle leading up and splitting on the left and right, and two staircases on the right and left leading downward. All around there were statues of fairies holding candlesticks, it probably would be all lit up at night. There were not much visible windows, because there seemed to be hallways and doors all over the place.

“Wow.. “, is all I could say.

“Do you know the story, Clarke?” Mrs. Pramheda asked.

When I shook my head, she smiled and looked behind us. Above the doors were standing tree statues.

"After the Great War between God and Lucifer, those angels who refused to take sides were cast out of heaven. One group"-she pointed to the tall angel in the middle, "chose to hide itself away under hills and deep in forests. They became faeries. Another group chose to live among animals and became shapeshifters. And the last chose to intermingle with humans and became witches.”

 "Good luck explaining to God that you used to spank one of his heavenly beings." I say with a sarcastic smile towards my mom.

Mom gave a startled laugh. "Clarke!"

"What? You did. I hope you like hot weather, Mom, that's all I'm saying.” Both her and Mrs. Pramheda giggle.

I saw a young girl, maybe around 11 years old, crying as she walks up the stairs and takes a right. Mrs. Pramheda looked at me and continued: "Students at Hecate range in age from eleven to seventeen. Once a student has been sentenced to Hecate, he or she is not released until his or her eighteenth birthday. Some choose to stay longer, others can’t wait to pack their suitcases.”

"So some kids could be here for, like, six months, and others could be here for six years?" I asked.

"Precisely. The majority of our students are sent here soon after they come into their powers. But there are always exceptions, such as yourself."

"Go me," I muttered.

"The girls' dormitories are located to the stairs on the right," Mrs. Pramheda said, gesturing up the stairs. "Boys are on the left. Classes are held here on the first floor as well as in the surrounding outbuildings." She pointed to the front and down of the staircase where long narrow hallways branched off from the foyer.

We started walking up the stairs and walked through a few corridors and halls until we got to a chill-looking lounge area, with a huge fireplace couches all around, with girls chatting and greeting Mrs. Pramheda every few seconds.

"Now, this is one of the two common room’s for the girls. The staircase straight forward leads to your dorms. "

"Now, are the students separated by . . . um . . ." Mom waved her hand.

Mrs. Pramheda smiled.

"By their abilities? No, of course not. One of the founding principles of Hecate is teaching the students how to coexist with every race."

I felt something cold brush my arm, and I jumped back, startled, as a pale woman in blue swept past me.

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Pramheda said with a small smile. "Isabelle Fortenay, one of our resident spirits. As I'm sure you read, Hecate is home to a number of spirits. They're harmless. They're unable to touch you or anything else. They may give you a fright now and then, but that's all they can do."

"Great," I said as I watched Isabelle fade into a paneled wall.

As she did, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see another spirit standing at the foot of the left stairs. She was a girl about my age, wearing a bright green cardigan over a short flowered dress.

Unlike Isabelle, who hadn't seemed to notice me, this girl was staring straight at me. I opened my mouth to ask Mrs. Pramheda who she was, but the headmistress had already turned her attention to someone across the foyer.

"Miss Talbot!" she called. I was amazed at the way her voice crossed the huge room without sounding even remotely like yelling.

A tiny girl, barely five feet tall, appeared at Mrs. Pramheda's elbow. Her skin was nearly snow white, blonde hair, with the exception of a hot-pink stripe running through her bangs. She had on thick, black-rimmed glasses, and even though she was smiling, I could tell it was just for Mrs. Pramheda's benefit. Her eyes looked totally bored.

"This is Jennifer Talbot. I believe you'll be rooming with her this semester, Miss Griffin. Jennifer, this is Clarke. Miss Talbot is, like you, a relative newcomer. She only joined us last year."

Mom beamed and shook Jenna's hand. "Nice to meet you. Are you, um, are you a witch like Clarke?"

"Mom," I whispered, but Jenna shook her head and said, "No, ma'am.

**I am a Vampire**."

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

I could feel Mom stiffen beside me, and I knew Jenna did too. Even though I was embarrassed for her, I shared Mom's freak-out. Witches, shapeshifters, and faeries were one thing. Vampires were monsters, plain and simple. That whole sensitive Children of the Night thing was total bull.

"Oh, okay," Mom said, struggling to recover. "I . . . uh, I didn't know vampires attended Hecate."

"It's a new program we have here," Mrs. Pramheda said, reaching out to run a hand over Jenna's hair. Jenna had a polite, if kind of blank look on her face, but I saw her tense up slightly.  "Every year," Mrs. Pramheda continued,

"Hecate takes a young vampire and offers him or her a chance to study alongside us in the hopes that we can eventually reform these unfortunates. And even better the misconception about them."

I glanced over at Jenna, because . . . unfortunates? Ouch. That was harsh.

"Sadly, Miss Talbot is the only vampire student we currently have, although one of our instructors is a vampire as well," Mrs. Pramheda said.

Jenna just smiled that weird nonsmile again. She looked very uncomfortable  and we all stood around in awkward silence until Mom said, "Sweetie, why don't you let Jennifer show you around? I've got a few things I want to go over with Mrs. Pramheda,  then I'll be up to say bye, okay? " I looked up to my new roommate and received what I think was the first genuine smile.

I went to grab my trunk from Mom, but Jenna beat me to it.

"You really don't have to help--" I started, but she waved her free hand.

"No problem. The one bonus to being a bloodsucking freak is superhuman strength."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just lamely replied, "Oh." She carried one side, and I grabbed the other. I have not read much about vampires, just the basics. The powers of vampires generally include immortality, high regeneration, resistance to pain, superhuman senses, superhuman speed, superhuman strength. The book I read mentioned that some vampires can do charming hypnosis, mind and memory manipulation ,thought my mom said it is not true.

"No chance of an elevator, I guess?" I was only half joking. While Jenna seemed effortless up the stairs , I looked like a helpless monkey pulling my other bags.

Jenna snorted. "Nah, that would be too convenient. They like to torture us here."

"Why don't they just have, like, a luggage-moving spell or something?"

"Mrs. Pramheda's a real stickler for not using magic as an excuse to be lazy. Apparently, carrying heavy suitcases up stairs is character-building."

"Right," I said as we struggled past the stairs and found ourselves in a narrow hall with doors on each side.

"So what do you think of her?" Jenna asked.

"Mrs. Pramheda?"

"Yeah."

"Her ponytail is very impressive." Jenna's smirk confirmed that I had said the right thing.

"I know, right? I swear to God, that hairdo is like, epic."

"Speaking of hairdos," I ventured, "how do you get away with that stripe?"

Jenna smoothed the pink streak with her free hand. "Oh, they don't really care about the poor vamp scholarship student that much. I guess as long as I'm not munching on my peers, I'm free to have any hair color I want."

We had stopped in front of room 312. Jenna set down her end of the trunk and pulled out her keys. Her key chain was bright yellow and had her name spelled out in sparkly pink letters.

"Here we are!"

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Welcome to The Twilight Zone!"

The "Too much pink ,I’m gonna die" Zone would have been a more accurate description. I don't know what I was expecting a vampire's room to look like. But this was definitely not it. Maybe I’ve been watching too much Dracula, but I expected something more mellow and black. But this room looked like it had been decorated by Barbie. It was bigger than I expected, but still small. There was enough room for two twin beds, two desks, two dressers, and one battered futon. The curtains were beige canvas, but Jenna had twined a hot-pink scarf over the drapery rod. Jenna's bed was covered in what appeared to be deep pink Muppet fur.

Jenna caught me staring at it. "Awesome, right?"

"I . . . I didn't know pink existed in that particular shade. Did your old roommate like pink too?"

Jenna's face froze for a split second. Then the strange look was gone, and she was leaning off the bed to scoop up her pillows and lion. "Nah, Holly just stuck with the blue stuff they give you if you don't bring your own. You brought your own, right?"

I opened my trunk and pulled out the corner of my mint green bedspread. Jenna looked a little disappointed, but sighed, "Well, it's better than the regular blue. So"--she flopped back onto the bed and began fishing around in her bedside table--"what brings you to Hex Hall, Clarke Griffin?"

I sat up and started pulling things out of my trunk. "I did a love spell for this girl in my class. It went badly."

"Didn't work?"

"Worked too well." I gave her the short version of the Kevin/Lexa episode.

" Day-um," she said, shaking her head. "That's hard core."

"Apparently," I said. "So you're . . . uh, you're a vampire. How exactly did that happen?"

Her eyes didn't meet mine, but her tone was casual. "Same way it happens to everyone else: met a vamp, got bitten. Not really that interesting." I should have figured. And I couldn’t have blamed her for not wanting to share with a person she met 10 minutes ago.

"So your mom is normal, huh?" she asked.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, my dad is a warlock, but they're not together or anything anymore."

"Oh," Jenna said knowingly. "Say no more. A lot of the kids here come from divorced families. Even magic doesn't ensure a happy marriage, apparently."

"Are your parents divorced?"

She finally found the nail polish she'd been searching for. "No, they're still disgustingly happy. Or, I mean . . . I guess they are. I haven't seen them since I, uh, changed, or whatever."

"Oh wow," I replied. "That sucks."

"No pun intended?" she asked.

"Right." I finished putting the sheets on my bed. "So if you're a vamp, do I have to be really careful about not opening the drapes in the morning?"

"Nope. See this?" She tugged on a silver chain around her neck and held up a small pendant. It was about the size and shape of a jelly bean, and dark red. Anyone else might mistake it for a ruby, but I'd seen pictures of something like it in one of Mom's books.

"A bloodstone?" Bloodstones were clear, hollow stones that could be filled with the blood of a powerful witch or warlock. The stone acted as a protection against lots of different things. I guess in Jenna's case it negated all her vampire issues, which was a relief. At least now I knew I could eat garlic in front of her.

Jenna started painting her left hand. "So what about blood?" I asked.

She let out a huge sigh. "It's completely embarrassing. I have to go to the infirmary. They have a minifridge in there with a bunch of bags of blood, like it's the Red Cross or something."

Had my disgust been written all over my face? Just in case, I faked a smile and said,

"Awesome. Like a bloody Capri Sun."

Jenna laughed. "Nice one."

I walked to my desk. Someone, Mrs. Pramheda, I guess, had left my class schedule there. It looked like a normal enough schedule, but said things like "M-F, 9:15-10:00, Magical Evolution, Yellow Sitting Room." I saw other classes like Herbology, Dark Arts , Divination and the one I was looking forward was Potions. It would be interesting to know how to make different potions.

She tossed the bottle of nail polish into her drawer and hopped off her bed. "I will let you say bye to your mom in private. See you at dinner."

She opened the door, my mom nearly smacking her in the face. My mom mumbled an apology as Jenna smiled and walked off. I had forgotten the fact that Jenna had supernatural hearing.

"How are you getting along?" Mom asked, dropping down onto my bed. I looked at her eyes and saw her tearing up

" Oh, Mom, don’t cry ,look, it's not forever, right? Just two years, and I'll have Christmas and summers off. Just like regular school. I'll be fine.  
Now go before you make me cry and I look like a huge dork."

Mom's eyes teared up again, but she pulled me into a tight hug. "I love you, Clarke."

"Love you too," I said, my throat tight.

Then, after making me swear to call at least three times a week, Mom was gone. And I laid down on my not-pink bed and cried like a huge dork..


	6. Chapter 6

I had an hour until dinner so I decided to do some exploring. I noticed our room had no bathroom or shower. Great. We probably had to share showers. I took the key left on my desk and ventured to the bathroom/showers at the end of the hall. It had a huge mirror over a bank of sinks, with toilet stalls in the back of the room. A slight corridor lead to 10 shower stalls. There were nearly 20 rooms in our hall and if all had 2 roommates or even more, this means we would have to take turns. Just perfect. There were also a bunch of claw-foot tubs against one wall, separated by waist-high partitions. I wondered who would ever want to take a bath in front of a bunch of other people?

With a sigh I set out to investigate the rest of Hecate Hall. As I went pass my hall and down the spiral staircase I found myself in the common room. There were a few couches and several armchairs, spread all around the room. I sat on an armchair near the fireplace. The faerie I'd seen earlier, the one with the blue tears, had apparently recovered. She was draped over a chartreuse fainting couch, laughing with another faerie. This one had light green wings that beat softly against the back of the sofa. I'd always though faeries' wings would be like butterflies', but they were thinner and more translucent. The dark-haired girl I'd seen on the lawn sat in an ivory wingback chair, idly flipping channels on the tiny television sitting on top of a small bookcase.

"Could you please turn that down?" the green-winged faerie said, turning to glare at the girl in the chair. "Some of us are trying to have conversations, Dog Girl."

The blue faerie laughed as the dark-haired girl stood and turned off the TV. "My name is Taylor," she said, tossing the remote at the green faerie. " Taylor. And I turn into a mountain lion, not a dog. If we're going to live together for the next few years, you might want to remember that, Nausicaa."

Nausicaa rolled her eyes, her green wings beating softly. "Oh, we will not be living together for long, I assure you. My uncle is king of the Seelie Court, and as soon as I tell him I am sharing a room with a shifter . . . well, let's just say I expect my living arrangements to change."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't look like your uncle could keep you out of this place," Taylor fired back. Nausicaa's face was still blank, but her wings beat faster.

"I will not live with a shifter," she said to Taylor. "I certainly don't want to deal with your litter box." The blue faerie laughed again, and Taylor turned bright red. Even from several feet away I saw her brown eyes turn gold. She was breathing hard as she said, "Shut up! Why don't you go and hug a tree or something, you faerie freak?"

Her words sounded garbled, like she was mumbling around a mouthful of marbles. Then I realized that she was mumbling around a mouthful of fangs.

Nausicaa had the good sense to look a little scared. She turned to the blue faerie and said, "Come on, Siobhan. Let's let this animal get control of herself." The two of them rose. They glided past me and out of the common room.

I looked back at Taylor, who was still panting, her eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, she shuddered, and when she opened her eyes, they were brown again. Then she looked up and saw me standing there.

"Faeries," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Right," I said. Like I'd ever seen a faerie before today.

"This your first day too?" she asked.

When I nodded, she said, "I'm Taylor. Shifter, obviously."

"Clarke. Witch."

"Cool. What kind? "

"Just a witch. " I said maybe a bit annoyed. Witches/Warlocks are like hybrids.   
**Mages.** Mages form guilds, and are therefore more organized and structured. They specialize in channeling the spirits of water, fire, earth and air.   
**Sorcerers.** Their magic comes from within. They can summon people, make portals and bind. The more willpower the sorcerer has, the more powerful the entity they can bind and control. They can enchant animals and powerful ones can enchant humans.  
**Wizards.** They cannot control their powers so they need a wand to use their powers efficiently. They are masters at potions.  
**Druids.** Druids are keepers of the world who walk the path of nature, following the wisdom of the Ancients and Cenarius, healing and nurturing the world. Druids draw their power from this natural energy, using it to change their shapes and command the forces of nature. Traditionally, druids chose the path of a specific animal totem. ( though, I don’t think any druid will find their way here. They would have to first leave the woods , to even get in trouble.) They are said to be a mix of a shapeshifter and mage.  
**Witches/Warlocks.** My people. Well, we are a mix of mages and sorcerers. The better version of them, in my opinion. We think of a spell and it happens. Easy as that. No need to channel my inner Buddha.  
Some families do not marry different magicians, to not ruined the bloodline.

"What did you do to get in here? "She knelt on the couch the faeries had vacated, folding her arms on the back and looking at me with those dark eyes.

I glanced around. No one was paying attention to us. Still, I kept my voice kind of quiet. "Love spell gone wrong." Taylor nodded. "There's a bunch of witches in here for stuff like that." "You?" I ventured.

She pushed her hair out of her eyes and said, "Pretty much what you just saw. Lost my temper with some girls at marching band practice, lioned out. But that's nothing compared to the crap some of the kids here have pulled." She leaned forward and her voice dropped to a near whisper. "This one werewolf, Beth? I hear she actually ate some girl. Still," she sighed, looking past me toward the stairs, "I'd rather have somebody like that for a roommate than a snotty faerie." She looked back at me. "Who are you rooming with?"

"Jenna Talbot."

Her eyes widened. "Dude. The vamp?" She chuckled. "Forget it. I'll take a bitchy faerie over that any day."

"She's not so bad," I said automatically.

Taylor shrugged and picked up the remote she'd thrown at Nausicaa.

"If you say so," she murmured, turning the TV back on.

Apparently our conversation was over, so I headed out of the common room. I found myself wandering through a lot of halls and stairs until I saw a tall handsome jock-looking guy all in denim and flannel leaving one of the other girls’ common room. I wondered if he was someone's older brother, since he looked too old to be at Hecate, and he was wearing jeans instead of the usual uniform.

My footsteps were muffled by a thick oriental-looking rug in swirling shades of red and gold as I turned down one of the hallways off the main foyer. I peeked into the first room I came to. Directly across from the door, one wall was nothing but windows, finally allowing me a good look at the grounds. This room overlooked a small pond with a pier and a pretty rustic cabin. But what really struck me was all the green. The grass, the trees, the thin coat of algae on the pond down the mountain, where I really, really hoped we wouldn't be canoeing or anything . . . all of it was this bright, hurt-your-eyes green that was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Even the heavy clouds that were beginning to swell with the threat of an afternoon thunderstorm seemed lime-tinted.

The walls were covered with pictures. A big picture ,which was from last year, caught my eye. There were too much people to count. I do not know how they fit nearly three hundred people in one picture. I spotted Jenna in the front, standing next to a taller girl. They had their arms slung over each other's shoulders, and I wondered if this was the mysterious Holly.

Was that why Jenna had seemed so weird when I'd mentioned her old roommate? Had they been best buddies, and now I was the intruder trying to take Holly's place? Great.

"Clarke?"

Startled, I turned around.

The three most beautiful girls I'd ever seen in my life were standing behind me.

Then I blinked. No, they weren't all drop-dead gorgeous. It was just the one in the middle. She had auburn hair that fell in soft bouncy curls nearly to her waist. I don’t think I have ever seen such a beautiful person.

The girl to her right was a blonde, and she had that whole California girl thing going--stick-straight hair, tan skin, deep blue eyes.

Rounding out the trio was an African American girl who was even shorter than I was. She was prettier than the blonde, but nowhere near as lovely the redheaded goddess in the middle. Still, looking at the plainer of the three, it was like my brain wanted them to be beautiful. My eyes wanted to skip over all of their imperfections.

A glamour. That was the only explanation, but I'd never heard of a witch using one. That was some serious magic.

I must have been looking at them like I was mentally damaged or something, because the blonde snickered and said, "Clarke Griffin, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Clarke."

"Great!" said the short girl. "We've been looking for you. I'm Anna Gilroy. This is Chaston Burnett"--she gestured to the blonde. "And this is Elodie Parris."

"Oh," I said, smiling at the redhead. "You three are witches?"

"Don’t I look like one?" Elodie retorted, earning a sharp look from Anna.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just that I've never met any other witches before."

"Really?" Chaston asked. "Like, never met any witches at all, or just never met any other dark witches before?"

"Excuse me?"

"Dark witches," Elodie repeated, giving Nausicaa a run for her money in the Snottiest Tone Ever competition.

"I . . . um . . . I didn't know there were types of witches."

Now all three of them were looking at me as if I'd just spoken in a foreign language. "Yes, but you are a dark witch?" Anna asked, pulling a piece of paper from her blazer. It was some sort of list, and she scanned it intently. "Let's see, Lassiter, Mendelson . . . here, Griffin, Clarke. Dark Witch. That's you."

She handed me the list, which was titled "New Students." There were about fifty names, all with classifications in parentheses.

"You really don't know?" Anna asked gently.

"Really don't," I said casually, but inside I was kind of annoyed. I thought I was in on the whole witch thing, guess not.

"White witches--" Anna began, but Elodie cut her off.

"White witches do weenie spells. Love spells, fortune reading, locator spells, and . . . I don't know, making bunnies and kittens and rainbows appear out of thin air or whatever," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Dark witches do the bigger things," Chaston offered. "And our powers are a hell of a lot stronger. We can make barrier spells, and if we're really good, control the weather. We're also necromancers if--"

"Whoa!" I held up my hand. "Necromancers? Like, power over dead things? All three girls nodded eagerly, like I'd just suggested going to the mall instead of raising zombies. "Ew!" I exclaimed without thinking. Mistake. Simultaneously, their smiles disappeared, and a distinct chill came over the room.

"Ew?" Elodie sneered. "God, how old are you? Power over the dead is the most coveted power there is, and you're grossed out by it? I swear," she said, turning back to the other two, "are you serious about wanting her for the coven?"

"She's the only other dark witch here, and you know we need four." Anna turned to her.

"She's worse than Holly," Elodie said. "And Holly was the most pathetic excuse for a dark witch ever."

"Elodie!" Chaston hissed.

"Holly?" I asked. "Like, Holly who used to room with Jenna Talbot?" Anna, Chaston, and Elodie managed a three-way glance, which is no easy feat.

"Yes," Anna said guardedly. "How do you know about Holly?"

"I'm rooming with Jenna, and she mentioned her. So she's a dark witch too? Did she graduate or something, or just move out?" Now all three of them looked genuinely freaked out. Even Elodie's poker face was replaced by a look of shock.

"Listen," she said, taking my arm. "Holly didn't graduate or leave. She died.

**And Jenna Talbot killed her.** "


	7. Chapter 7

"Jenna? Jenna Talbot killed her? What did she do, smother her with pink glitter or something?" I said laughing. For future reference probably laughing would not be a good idea.

"You think this is funny?" Anna asked with a slight scowl.

"The idea that Jenna could kill anyone is just . . . funny," I said confident.

They hit me with  the three-way glance. Seriously, did they practice in front of a mirror?

"She's a vampire," Chaston insisted. "Can you think of any other way Holly ended up with two holes in her neck?"

"When Holly started two years ago, we formed a coven," Anna began. "The four of us were the only dark witches here, and you need four people for a really strong coven, so it seemed natural that we would become friends. But then Jenna Talbot showed up at the beginning of last year, and she and Holly became roommates."

"Next thing we know," Chaston interjected, "Holly won't hang out with us anymore. She starts spending all her time with Jenna, totally blowing us off. When we asked her why, all she would say was that Jenna was fun.”

She gave me a look that clearly said anyone being more fun than the three of them was impossible.

"Wow," I said faintly.

"Then one day in March, I find Holly in the library crying," Elodie said. "All she would tell me was that it was about Jenna, but she wouldn't tell me what."

"Two days later, Holly was dead," Chaston said, her voice dark and somber. I waited for another crack of thunder, thinking one surely had to follow a statement like that. But the only sound was the soft shushing of the rain.

"They found her in the upstairs bathroom." Elodie's voice was almost a whisper. "She was in a tub, with two holes in her neck, and almost no blood left in her body."

By now my stomach was somewhere south of my knees, and I could actually feel my heart pounding in my ears. No wonder Jenna had freaked when I'd mentioned her roommate. "That's horrible. If everyone's so sure it was Jenna, why is she still here? Wouldn't the Council have staked her or something?"

"They did send someone," Chaston said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "But the guy said Holly's wounds couldn't have been made by fangs. They were too . . . neat."

I swallowed. "Neat?"

"Vampires are messy eaters," Anna replied.

I tried really hard to keep my face blank as I said, "Well, if the Council said it wasn't Jenna, then it wasn't her. Pretty sure those guys wouldn't let a rabid vampire go to school with us." These girls were trying to make me believe Jenna was a killer, but I wasn’t buying it. " You know.. I have a lot to unpack-"

Anna interrupted me and said: “We could teach you so much about being a dark witch. No offense, but you seem like you could use the help."

"I'll, uh, think about it, okay?" I turned to leave, but the door slammed shut inches from my face. When I turned back to the girls they were smiling levitating inches from the floor. In seconds the whole room was shaking, wind blowing papers to the ground. They looked like goddesses and I could feel their powers flowing all around me. A strong wind shattered some of the pictures on the ground and then as quickly as it started ,the wind died down and the girls floated to the ground again.

"See?" Anna said eagerly. "That's what we can do with only three. Imagine what we could accomplish with four."

"So are you in?" Chaston asked. She and Anna were still smiling at me, but Elodie was looking off to the side, bored.

"Can I get back to you?" I asked. Chaston's and Anna's smiles vanished. "Told you so," Elodie said walking pass me. The other two girls passed me ,looking at me with pure annoyance.

I sat on a nearby chair unsure what to do. What have I gotten myself into? I refuse to believe that Jenna is capable of killing someone. Yes, I met her an hour ago, but that’s ridiculous. About twenty minutes later ,the dinner bell rang that’s when Jenna found me. She poked her head inside the room, "Sophie? "

"Hey." I attempted a smile. Which must have been pretty pathetic, because Jenna immediately furrowed her brow. "What's up?" But before I could explain about the Witches of Clinique, Jenna rushed on, her words coming so fast that I could practically see them tumbling out of her mouth. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier. I was a bit distant, and I left you just like that."

"No, no," I said, rising to my feet. "Jenna, it's not you. Really. We're cool." Relief washed over her face. Then she glanced down and sad tons of small glass from the broken pictures. "Let me guess," she said softly. "You had a run-in with the Trinity."

"Who?" I said, lamely forcing a laugh. "I don't even know--"

"Elodie, Anna, and Chaston. And the fact that you didn't want to tell me about it means they must have told you about Holly." Great. Was my only chance at friendship here destined to be thwarted at every turn?

"Jenna," I started, but now it was her turn to cut me off.

"Did they tell you I killed Holly?" When I didn't answer, she made this sound that I think was supposed to be a sarcastic laugh, but she was clearly holding back tears.

"Right, 'cause I'm a monster who can't control herself and would eat her . . . her best friend." The corners of her mouth had started to tremble a little. "They're the ones who are into the really dark stuff, but I'm the monster," she continued.

"What do you mean?" I asked in curiosity.

She looked back at me for a second before turning away again. "I don't know," she mumbled. "Just some stuff Holly said. Some sort of spell they were trying to do to get more power or something."

Jenna started sniffling. I felt sorry for her, so I  stepped closer to her. "Screw them." Jenna's eyes got huge, and relief visibly flowed through her. "Damn straight." She agreed with such a strong nod that we both burst into giggles.

I was glad Jenna was with me, because I couldn’t have found the way myself. This place was a maze. I assure you, I will get lost about 100 times in the upcoming year. As we made our way to the dining hall, Jenna was now babbling about how awesome the apple pie was. I thought about those three girls, how wrong they'd been; there was no way Jenna could hurt anyone.

The dining hall was completely magnificent. After hearing that it used to be a   ballroom, I'd expected something fancy: crystal chandeliers, shiny dark wood floors, a wall of mirrors . . . the full-on fairy-tale ballroom.

What I got was not far from that, except that the people were dressed in the Hecate uniform and not in fancy dresses and tuxes. There were tables all round the ballroom, with a particular wide one at the end levitated a few steps. I saw Mrs. Pramheda and the boy, I saw earlier , speaking and her nodding and laughing. Isn’t she a bit old for him?

But then I caught sight of the long low table that held all the food: big heaping silver bowls of shrimp, steaming pans full of roasted chicken, vats of gooey macaroni and cheese. I gaped at the towering chocolate cake, easily three feet tall, covered in dark creamy frosting and dotted with thick red strawberries. The buffet table was in the middle of the room and I am starting to like this place.

"This is a first-night spread only," Jenna warned. Why???? Why take the only thing that keeps me sane?

Once I had piled my plate high, Jenna and I looked around for a place to sit. I saw Elodie, Chaston, and Anna sitting at a table near the end of the room, so I immediately started to look for a table far away from them. I spotted a small table near the doors, and pointed it out to Jenna.

While I devoured the delicious food on my plate, I asked Jenna questions about various people in the dining hall. I started with the huge ebony table that sat on a raised platform at one end of the room. It was clearly the teachers' table, since not only was it the nicest, it was also the biggest. She tried to tell me most of the teachers ,but there were some she didn’t know because there were classes specified for each kind.

"Who's that?"

Jenna rolled her eyes and groaned. "Ugh. Ms. Vanderlyden. Or the Vandy as we all call her. Not to her face," she quickly added. "Do that and you'll never get out of detention. She's a dark witch, or at least she was. The Council stripped her of her powers years ago. Now she's kind of like our dorm mother or something, and she teaches P.E. or what passes for it at Hex. She's in charge of making sure we follow the rules and stuff. She's also totally evil."

We moved on to the students. I noticed that Bellamy was sitting at a table with a bunch of other guys. They were laughing at something Bellamy was saying. I really hoped it wasn't the "Bad Dog" story. "What about that guy?" I asked with forced casualness.

"Bellamy Blake, resident bad boy and total heartthrob. Warlock. Every girl here is at least, like, half in love with him. Crushing on Bellamy Blake might as well be a class."

"What about you?" I asked. "You have a crush on him?" Jenna studied me for a moment before saying, "He's not really my type."

"What, you don't do tall, dark, and handsome?"

"No," she said lightly. "I don't do guys."

"Oh," was all I could say to that. I'd never had a gay friend. Then again, I'd never really had a lot of friends.

Still looking at Bellamy, I said, "Yeah, well, I attempted to kill him earlier." After Jenna recovered from the sweet tea that nearly shot out of her nose, I filled her in on the actual story.

"Mrs. Pramheda didn't seem very impressed with him," I said.

"She wouldn't be. Bellamy was always in trouble last year. Then he left in the middle of the school year for almost a month, and there were all these rumors about him. People thought he went to London."

"Why? So he could ride one of those double-decker buses?" I joked but Jenna gave me a funny look. "No, London is where Council headquarters is. Everybody thought he'd gone through the Removal."

I'd read something about that in one of Mom's books. It was this really intense ritual that took away magical powers. But something like one in a hundred survive it. I'd never heard of anyone going through it voluntarily.

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

She pushed her food around on her plate. "He and Holly were . . . really close, and he was in a bad place after she died. A couple of people said they heard him telling Pramheda that he hated what he was, wanted to be normal, stuff like that."

"Huh," I said. "So he and Holly were a couple?"

"You could say that."


	8. Chapter 8

I clearly wasn't going to get any more out of Jenna about that, so I said, "Well, apparently Bellamy didn't go through the Removal. He's still got powers."

"Yeah, powers over your pants," Jenna said with a giggle.

I pushed her elbow and seconds later Mrs. Pramheda raised her hands over her head and the room fell quiet so quickly, you would have thought she'd just cast a silencing spell.

"Students," she drawled. "Dinner is now concluded. If this is not your first night at Hecate, please exit the dining hall. The rest of you are to remain seated."

Jenna gave me a sympathetic look and cleared our empty plates , "Sorry in advance for what you're about to see."

"What?" I asked as the dining hall began to empty. "What's going to happen?"

Jenna shook her head. "Let's just say you may regret that second piece of cake." Oh my God. Regret cake? Whatever was about to happen must be truly evil.

Everyone was filing out when Mrs. Pramheda's voice rang out. "Mr. Blake, where are you going?"

Bellamy was only a few feet from me and about to head out the door. I also noticed that he was holding hands with Elodie. Interesting. Of course it made total sense that the two people who already seemed to dislike me the most would be dating. Snakes attract snakes.

Bellamy stared down the length of the ballroom at Mrs. Pramheda. "This isn't my first year," he said. The line out the door had frozen, everyone's curious faces turned toward Bellamy. Elodie placed her other hand--the one that wasn't clutching Bellamy's like he was a prize she'd won at a carnival--on his shoulder.

"I've seen all this crap before," he insisted.

"And yet I don't believe it has sunk in," she told Bellamy. She gestured to the Jenna's now-empty chair. "Kindly have a seat." I'm pretty sure he muttered an even worse string of words as he grabbed the chair across from me. "Hey there, Cl arke."

I gritted my teeth. "Hi." I simply said, not wanting to deal with him.

And then everything went black.

Next to me, I heard Bellamy sigh. It always feels weird to sit next to a guy in the dark, even if it was a guy I didn't like. Because I couldn't see him, I was very aware of him breathing, shifting in his chair, even the smell of his cologne.  

I was about to ask him just what I was in for when a tiny square of light appeared at the front of the room next to Mrs. Pramheda. The square grew larger and larger until it was roughly the size of a movie screen. It hovered there, blank and glowing, until, very slowly, an image began to appear, like a photo developing. It was a black-and-white painting of a group of stern-faced men wearing the black suits and big hats of Puritans.

"In 1692, two witches in Salem, Massachusetts, came into their powers and created a panic that left eighteen innocent humans dead," Mrs. Pramheda began. "A group of warlocks from nearby Boston wrote to the warlocks and witches in London and created the Council. It was hoped that with structure and resources, the Council could better control magical activity and prevent other tragedies like this from occurring. They created Brookhood, the first disciplinary school for supernaturals."

"In 1923, the Council granted shapeshifters, werewolves and fae the right to come to Brookhood as well." No mention of vamps, of course.

"This isn't so bad," I whispered to Bellamy . "Just a history lecture."

He shook his head slightly. "Just wait."

"In 1967, the Council realized that it needed a place to train and mold young supernaturals who were using their powers without the proper level of discretion. A school where they would learn more about the history of their races, and of the dreadful consequences of exposing their abilities to humans. And so Hecate Hall was born."

"Juvie for monsters," I muttered under my breath, earning me a low laugh from Bellamy.

"Here we go," he murmured.

Once again, a small speck of light sparkled in the front of the room, but this time, no screen appeared. Instead, the light took the form of an old man, maybe around seventy. He would have looked completely real if it hadn't been for the slight shimmer that clung to him, making him glow in the dark room. He was dressed in overalls and a plaid shirt, and a brown hat was pulled low over his eyes. A scythe dangled from his right hand. For a moment he was totally motionless, but then he turned and began swinging the scythe near the ground, like he was cutting grass that wasn't there. It was . . . eerie. It was like we were watching a movie, but the action was happening live.

"This is Charles Walton," Mrs. Pramheda announced. "He was a white warlock from a village in England called Lower Quinton. He kept to himself and earned one pitiful shilling an hour as a hedge cutter for a local farmer. In addition to that, he performed simple spells for the people of Lower Quinton: potions for gout, the occasional love spell… simple harmless things. But then, in 1945, the village had a bad harvest." As she spoke, more figures began to materialize behind the man. There were four of them in all: normal-looking people in cardigans and sensible shoes. Two of them had their backs to me, but I could see a short, squat woman with a rosy face and steel gray hair, and a skinny guy wearing a deep burgundy hat with earflaps.

"The people of Lower Quinton decided that Charles must have been to blame for their crops failing, and . . . well, you can see the rest."

The man with the pitchfork darted forward and grabbed the old man by the elbow, whirling him around. The old man looked terrified, and even though I knew what was coming, I couldn't turn away. Instead I watched as three people, people who looked like they should be baking pies or sipping tea, forced the old man to the ground, and the skinny man drove the pitchfork through his neck.

The sweet grandmotherly woman knelt down next to the body and picked up the scythe, and just as I was thinking that I really did regret that cake, the scene in front of us shimmered and vanished.

Mrs. Pramheda filled us in on what we hadn't seen. "After stabbing him, the villagers went on to carve symbols on Mr. Walton's body, which they hoped would ward off his 'evil' magic. After five decades of trying to help his fellow villagers, this is how Charles Walton was repaid by humans."

And suddenly the room was full of images and sounds. Just behind Mrs. Pramheda, a family of vampires were staked by a group of men in black suits. I could actually hear the horrible wet sound, almost like a loud kiss, as the wooden stakes pierced their chests.

From the left I heard the sharp rattle of gunfire, and I instinctively ducked as a werewolf collapsed, riddled with silver bullets fired by an old woman in, of all things, a pink housecoat.

It was like being thrust into a horror movie, and it was everywhere. In the center of the room, I now saw two faeries, both with translucent gray wings, forced to their knees by three men in brown robes. As the faeries screamed, their wrists were shackled in iron that immediately seared their flesh, filling the room with a smell that was disturbingly like barbecue.

I wanted to cover my face, but my hands felt heavy and clammy, my heart stuck in my throat. And then, just when I was sure I was going to be sick, the images vanished and the dining hall lights came on.

Mrs. Pramheda stood at the front of the room, smiling serenely, but when she spoke, her voice was cold and hard. "This is why all of you are here. This is what you all risked when you recklessly used your powers in the presence of humans. And for what?" She looked around the room. "To gain acceptance? To show off? We've been persecuted unto death by humans who will happily use our powers if it suits them. And what you just saw"--she swept her hand around, and I could almost see those hanged witches again, their eyes cloudy, their lips blue--"is just what normal humans have done. This is nothing compared to what is done by those who've made it their life's work to eliminate our kind."

Mrs. Pramheda waved her hand again, and like before, images sprang up behind her, only this time they were still pictures instead of movies from hell. "There's a group that calls themselves the Alliance," she said, sounding almost bored as she gestured to a group of bland-looking men and women in suits.

"The Alliance is made up of agents from several different government agencies from several different governments. Luckily, they stay so bogged down with paperwork that they're rarely an actual threat."

That picture faded as a trio of women with the brightest red hair I'd ever seen appeared. "And, of course, the Brannicks, an ancient family from Ireland who have been fighting 'monsters,' as they call us, since the time of Saint Patrick. These are the current keepers of the flame, Aislinn Brannick, and her two daughters, Finley and Isolde. They tend to be a little more dangerous, as their ancestor was Maeve Brannick, an incredibly powerful white witch who renounced her race to join with the church. They're therefore imbued with more power than your regular human."

She waved her hand again, and the women disappeared.

"And then there is our most forceful enemy," Mrs. Pramheda continued.

As she spoke, a black image formed over her head. It took me a minute to figure out that it was an eye. But not an actual eye--more like a really stylized tattoo sketched all in black, except for the iris, which was deep gold.

" ll'Occhio di Dio. The Eye of God," she said. I heard the room draw in a collective breath.

"What's that?" I whispered to Bellamy. He turned. That sarcastic smile was hovering around his lips again. He sarcastically answered , "You can't do a blocking spell, and you've never heard of ll'Occhio? Man, what kind of witch are you?"

I had an incredibly nasty retort ready that involved his mother and the U.S. Navy, but before I could get it out, Mrs. Pramheda said, "ll'Occhio di Dio is the greatest threat to any of us. They are a group based in Rome, and their express purpose is wiping our kinds off the face of the earth. They see themselves as holy knights, while we are the evil that must be purged. Last year this group alone was responsible for the deaths of more than one thousand supernaturals."

I stared up at The Eye and felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Now I remembered why it looked so familiar. I'd seen it once in one of Mom's books. I'd been about thirteen, just idly flipping through the pages, admiring the glossy pictures of famous witches. And then I'd turned to a painting of a witch's execution in Scotland, maybe around 1600 or so. The picture was so gruesome that I hadn't been able to stop staring at it. I could still see the witch lying on her back, strapped to a wooden plank. Her blond hair streamed to the ground, a look of sheer terror on her face. Standing over her was a dark-haired man holding a silver knife. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and just above his heart was a tattoo--a black eye with a golden iris.

"In the past we've more than held our own against these three groups, but that's when they were separate and at odds. Now we've received word that they may be forging a sort of peace. If this happens . . ." She sighed. ”Well, let's just say we can't let that happen."

The Eye faded, and Mrs. Pramheda clapped her hands together. "Now. Enough of that. You all have a very big morning tomorrow, so you are dismissed. Lights out in half an hour."

She sounded so bright and businesslike that I wondered if I had hallucinated the part where she basically told us we were all going to die.

But one look around the room and I knew that my classmates were just as shell-shocked and confused as I was.

"Well," Bellamy said, slapping his hands on his thighs. "Some things never change." Before I could ask what he meant, he was out of his seat and disappearing among the crowd of students.

When I got back to my room, Jenna was sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading a book. I heaved a sigh and leaned against the door, pushing it shut with a loud click.

"What's wrong? The Moving Picture Show get to you?" Jenna asked without looking up.

"No. I mean, yeah, of course. That stuff was messed up. But I think I have a crush on Bellamy Blake."

Jenna laughed. "How original of you."

I flopped down on my bed. "Why?" I moaned into my pillow. I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. "Okay, so he's cute. Big deal. Lots of guys are cute."

Clearly my whining about a boy I liked was interfering with Jenna's reading, because she uncrossed her legs and came to perch on the edge of her desk. "Bellamy's not cute," she amended. "Puppies are cute. Babies are cute. I'm cute. Bellamy Blake is smokin' hot. And I'm not even into guys."

Okay, so Jenna was not going to be much assistance in squashing the crush. "He's a jerk," I pointed out. Trying to think of something else I stared at the ceiling as Jenna put her book in her drawer.

"Ooh!" Jenna said suddenly, sitting up so fast she knocked over her cup of pens. "He has a total bitch for a girlfriend!"

"Yes!" I said, sitting up and pointing at her. "Thank you! Evil girlfriend who already hates me, no less. And any guy who willingly spends time with Elodie is not a guy worth liking."

"Too true," Jenna said with an emphatic nod.

Feeling better, I rolled onto my stomach to grab a book from beside the bed. "It's weird, though," Jenna said, as I looked at her confused, "Bellamy and Elodie. She was after him all last year, but he never wanted anything to do with her. Like, ever. Then he came back from wherever he was, and bam! Suddenly they're a couple. It's weird."

I was about to bring up the subject of Holly again when Mrs. Pramheda's voice drifted through the room, almost like she was on a PA system. I guessed it was some sort of voice amplification spell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in light of tomorrow's busy schedule, you are expected to retire early tonight. Lights out in ten minutes."

I glanced at my watch. "It's eight o'clock," I said incredulously. "She wants us to go to bed at eight o'clock?"

Sighing, Jenna went to her closet and pulled out her pajamas.

"Welcome to life at Hecate, Clarke."

There was a mad rush for the bathroom to brush teeth, as I had the chance to see my fellow dormies. Once I made it back from that, I only had three minutes left to put on my pajamas and dive into bed. At 8:10 exactly, the lights blinked out. Jenna and I spoke for about half an hour and then dozed off to sleep.


End file.
